Legacy of the Lost
by Wingleader Sora Jade
Summary: AC 248. Many people have forgotten the sacrifices one had to make for the wars. Many take the peace for granted. When one history class goes to a musium that's more then it seems, will they remember?


Legacy of the Lost 

by WSJ 

This was inspired by **This Old Man** by Nin Tendo. I know for sure you can find it on the fanfiction section of YaoiJanai.Com, and I strongly erge you to check it out! It's wonderful! 

It was also inspired, a little, by **Execution Blues**, by Tori Sakana. That one you can find on FanFiction.Net. 

I don't own GW. 

()()()()() 

The year is AC 248. Fifty years have passed since the great Eve Wars. The next generation has grown up in the peace times, without knowing what it's like to live in war. 

Many of this generation take the peace for granted. 

~*~ 

"Aw... How come we gotta go to some stupid prison..." a boy grumbled as he slumped along behind his classmates. 

His history teacher looked at him sharply. "Because this is where the five Rebels were held and executed. It should be _very_," she emphasised the word. "Educational." 

This of course just caused the students to grumble more. 

The teacher sighed and led the group of twenty students into the lobby of the prison that had been converted into a musium. An old woman sat behind the reception desk while a younger woman who looked to be her daughter stood beside it. 

The younger woman perked up considerably as they walked in, and stepped forward to greet them. "Hi, my name is Pallaspaz," she sweatdropped slightly as the kids began to snicker, "But everyone calls me Paz. You're the group here for the tour?" 

Paz had long, light blond hair in a braid and sparkling cobalt eyes. She was tall and slender and looked to be about twenty-two or twenty-three. She was wearing an old uniform from sometime in the Eve Wars. 

The history teacher nodded and Paz led the way into the first room, which was filled with hunks of mostly burned and twisted metal in roped off areas. She stopped and turned to the group. "Ok, before we get started, can anyone tell me what uniform I'm wearing?" 

When no one raised their hands she looked slightly sorrowful and sighed. "This is a Treize Faction uniform, that of a Commander, from AC 195. In this room," she turned and in a sweping gesture took in all of the scrap metal. "We house what bits of famous mobile suits we could find. This over here," she pointed to a long metal rod in a glass case. "Is our most valuable peice. It's _the_ actual beam scythe from the Gundam Deathscythe, still intact and fully functional." 

Not many people were as excited by this as she was, although some of the boys perked up at the words "fully functional". 

Paz sighed again and motioned for the group to follow her. "Next we head into the actual cells. We have four intact, where the Rebel Gundam Pilots Duo Maxwell, Quatre Winner, Chang Wufei and Trowa Barton were kept until execution. The fifth cell, where Heero Yuy was contained, was destroyed in an escape attempt/suicide run Heero made the day before his execution. He died in the ensuing collapse of the stone ceiling." 

She led them to the first cell, and then to the second, third and fourth. If anything, the kids just looked more bored then before. Both Paz and the history teacher were beginning to get a little upset when Paz's hand landed on a fifth doorknob. 

Her expresion turned quizzical, but if you looked closely there was laughter in her eyes. "I could have sworn that the door to the next room was farther down the hall..." She shrugged and pushed it open, ushering the kids into a dark room. She shut the door behind them and felt around for a lightswitch. She found none and stood there, as if waiting for something. 

Suddenly, high up on the wall, letters began to light up. In curving, flowing handwriting word after word appeared. The kids, as well as the teacher, stood frozen as a voise began to speak the words as they lit up. 

"Listen to my story. It is a sad one, I promise you that. But you must know." 

The entire room lit up then, and they found themselves in a jail cell much like the four they had just visited. But unlike the others, the walls and floor were covered in writing, and this cell was occupied. 

A teenager of about fifteen or sixteen with a mop of unruly brown hair was down on his hands and knees, scribbling on the floor with a peice of charcoal. He seemed not to notice they were there. 

The voise continued to speak the words as the teen wrote them. 

"My name? That is not of your concern. I must tell you of the war, of all the pain and suffering so many innocents have gone through." 

**A jail cell is freedom from the pain in my home **

Hatred passed on, passed on, and passed on 

A world of violent rage 

The cell, the words and the young man all disappeared, and they found themselves standing in space, staring down at the earth. One of the students gasped and they all turned to see a giant mobile suit flying toward them. They all tried to duck out of its way, screaming and crying for it to stop. It didn't, but it passed right through them, as did the one following it. 

The two stopped and began to do battle. The students saw other fights going on around them, all with mobile suits that had been destroyed long before their time. 

"We lived in a world of pain and suffering. And even for the "great and glorious" Gundam Pilots it was no different. Duo Maxwell, pilot of Deathscythe, grew up a street orphan on L2, loosing all he held dear. Chang Wufei, pilot of Shenlong, lost a wife in the very earliest days of the war. 

"We all lost something, gave up something we held dear. And now no one seems to care anymore. Have you all forgotten our sacrifices?" 

The space battle dimmed into a plain black room, and suddenly the teenager from before stood in front of them, gun pointed at none of them yet all of them at the same time. 

They all screamed and ducked as he let off a volley of shots, and several began to cry. However, like the mobile suits the bullets passed right through them. But the soldiers who had snuck up on them did not share their fortune. 

Many students gasped and a couple girls looked like they were about to retch as they saw the gruesome heap of blood the soldiers had become. When they turned back around, the teenaged gunman was gone. 

**But it's one that I can recognize **

Having never seen the color of my father's eyes. 

Yes, I dwell in hell but it's a hell that I can grip 

I tried to grip my family but I slipped. 

"Such is the pain we had to go through." 

The scene shifted back to the cell, where the teen was just finishing his writing. The door behind them clicked open and a soldier walked in, gun held at ready. The teen was too fast for him, and had knocked him over with one strong punch. 

As he tried to escape through the door, several more souldiers appeared and threw him back against the far wall. He cried out as something cracked, and his breathing became labored. He pulled a small metal device out of his pocket and wheezed something that no one could hear before pushing down on the button. 

The walls seemed to explode, collapsing in on them as they screamed and tried to duck out of the way. The vision faded, and was replaced yet again by the cell, writing coverng the walls. But this time, there was no teenaged boy. 

**To escape from the pain and an existence mundane **

I gotta nine, a sign, a set and now I gotta name. 

Read my writing on the wall, 

No one's here to catch me when I fall. 

Several of the kids shuddered and immediately escaped back to the bus, many of then crying or trying not to puke or both. Some of the braver stayed and read the writing on the wall, which seemed to be the diary of a soldier who had been imprisoned there. 

Finally though, the teacher herded them out. She paused to talk to Paz's mother, the old woman behind the counter. "Was the war really like that?" 

She smiled saddly as Paz came to stand beside her. "Yes dear, it was." 

The teacher nodded and started to go, but paused again. "That _was_ just a holographic simulation, right?" she looked rather worried. 

Paz and her mother exchanged a knowing look. "Of course." Paz said reassuringly. 

The teacher smiled, releived, and then headed back to the bus with her students. 

**But death is on my side **

Suicide 

Paz glanced over at her mother and perched herself on the edge of the front desk. Her form seemed to melt away until she was about fifteen, with long honey-blond hair and a determined smile. "So, when do we actually reveal to the general public that this is just an old, abandonned warehouse that could fall down at any moment?" 

"Paz"'s "mother" glanced at her and chuckled, leaning back and putting her feet up on the table, a posture that looked rather strange. Then her old woman's form also melted away until Duo Maxwell sat beside her, looking much more natural in that possition. 

There came the sound of hollow footsteps from the direction of the "holographic simulation" room and Heero Yuy stepped in, putting his arms around "Paz"'s waist. "Why my dear Relena, the same day we reveal that this musium is ghost-ran!" 

()()()()() 

Not expecting that, were you? ^_~ 

For those wondering, the name Pallaspaz literally means "wise peace". Pallas means "wise" in Greek, and Paz is Spanish for peace. 

Reviews pleases!!!!!!!!!!! 

God Bless minna-san! 


End file.
